


two bros, chillin' in a space pool

by memesofbees



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angry Pining, M/M, Pining! Lance, The Pool Scene, kissing in general, underwater kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9220937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memesofbees/pseuds/memesofbees
Summary: Harrumphing, Lance paddled to the edge, heaving himself to sit on it, one foot extended to point at Keith, "Fine! Then if you believe yourself to be so much better than me—"Keith seemed distracted, mouth slightly open, "I never said—""I challenge you to a duel! A swimming duel!"He looked wholly unimpressed once again, "Wow, that's new."✩My take on why they were both shirtless.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I should be writing for my other fic but,,,, Season 2's here, babes!

Lance used the final mileage of leg he had on Keith to leap in front of him and slam into the pool door. His cheek made a noise as they opened and let him in. He shook his head and turned, pointing, “Ha! I won!”

“You,” Keith said, scowling and smacking Lance’s finger away, “cheated.”

“What? By _winning—“_

“You tripped me in the hallway,” he rolled his eyes and pressed a button on the wall to dispense a towel.

Lance sputtered, “You grabbed my shirt on the way down and we both fell! That didn’t count!”

Keith ignored him. Lance took his own towel and took a deep breath. The castle pool wasn’t quite like on Earth but… but it was practically freakin’ ocean, alright? It was practically the size of an Olympic pool (he didn’t know, it’s not like he’d been near one before), if not bigger, with soft waves breaking the surface. And even though the room was deep in the castle, all other three walls were glass, looking out into space. Considering, Lance thought maybe it was a holoscreen, but it was so goddamn breathtaking either way.

Lance didn’t know the exact details of how there were waves, he wasn’t really listening through the explanation, he was too fucking psyched that they were going have a _pool._ Sure, Coran and Shiro had already applied a 'No canonballing, _Lance'_  rule, but they weren't here half the time so who cared?

Right now, space was being aesthetic as hell. It was the purple pallete of inky blues and electric pinks that Lance would use as his Google Chrome theme and background for desktops. Stars like punched holes, some bigger than how he could remember the moon.

He exhaled.

Keith dropped his towel over the back of a chair and took of his shirt the crossy-armed way (y'know?), which Lance was surprised he could even notice because—wow— suddenly he's shirtless? What a concept? His mouth went completely dry, but that was unrelated. 

It wasn't like he was jacked, he was still a teenager (Barely three months older than Lance. Probably did it on purpose), but he was a teenager that trained every other Friday. And it showed. Toned arms and filled in shoulders. A broad chest and, _Jesus,_ a definite six pack. _A_ _fucking V._

Okay. Okay, maybe they were related. Maybe Lance had a giant crush on his self-proclaimed rival. Or maybe Lance was a raging teenage bisexual (still true either way) and his hormones—

Keith laced his fingers together and pulled both arms over his head, popping his back with a grunt.

Lance keeled the fuck over and dropped to the ground, dead. RIP Lance McClain, he died as he lived: salty and gay. He gulped and released the butterflies in his stomach. Instead of screeching, as per the usual reaction one should have, he channeled all his frustration into angrily ripping off his shirt. 

Pft, he'd look _twice_  as cool as Keith. Thrice, even! Could Keith even swim? Bet not with all those heavy muscl—

_Verga, tengo que parar de hablar._

Lance scrubbed a hand through his hair to destatic it and threw his shirt behind him. He looked up and found Keith staring back at him. They locked eyes for a second before awkwardly coughing, Lance turning his back to completely flatline into the water. Keith did it on _purpose_. Looking at him with his— his _dreamy_  eyes. Ugh. 

Boys were the _worst._

He walked over to the deeper side of the pool and shifted weight on each foot. The tendons stretched enough for him to not be worried about cramps. He would've canonballed at this point, if Keith wasn't so far away, just out of splash reach. Instead he put his hands on top of each other and did a neat pencil dive into the water.

It was pleasantly cool, enough so that he could open his eyes without them stinging. He stayed suspended for a bit, watching strands of his hair float in front of him. He heard the belated sound of Keith coming in and surfaced, taking slow breaths back into his lungs.

Keith came a second later, a few feet away, shaking his hair out like a dog. It stuck all around his face and neck and Lance snorted before Keith dipped his head back and all his hair suctioned back to being straight, perfectly framing his head. It was stark, dark on pale skin, rivulets running down his temples.

His heart did a weird routine in his chest.  _Stop that._

He wiped his face off with both hands and layed back on the water, slowly kicking across it, "So the score's... thirty-one to thirty-two? I still don't count your last point."

"I still can't believe you're keeping score on everything we do. It's ridiculous."

"I want you to know that I'm winning," he allowed himself to sink down to his shoulders.

Keith's eyebrow cocked up, "But you're not."

Pidge and Hunk jumped out from behind him, airhorns blaring. Confetti rained down from the ceiling and Lance saw himself cooked to a medium well degree, bright neon lights decorated with flames announcing "ROASTED!" appearing in the air. He shook his head, one hand over his heart, "The  _nerve,_ the _audacity—_ "

The side of his mouth ticked up just a little bit, almost forming the dimple Lance knew he had on his right cheek (Yes, from thinking about it for hours on end, let's move on). His attempt at schooling his poker face back on failed and the grin fit easy on his face, "You aren't."

Harrumphing, Lance paddled to the edge, heaving himself to sit on it, one foot extended to point at him, "Fine! Then if you believe yourself to be so much better than me—"

Keith seemed distracted, mouth slightly open, "I never said—"

"I challenge you to a duel! A swimming duel!"

He looked wholly unimpressed once again, "Wow, that's new."

Lance pouted, toes drooping, "Listen, okay? If you win, and that's a big if, I'll abolish the points sytem. And delete the audio of you singing show tunesin the shower—"

"Wait, what—"

" _V_ _erga, pero para de interuptarme! Dios..._ anyway, and _when_  I win, I get twenty points over you and bragging rights until... Shiro stops wearing eyeliner."

Keith snorted (A butterfly in his stomach did exactly four backflips), actually considering it. Lance made a pleased noise and stood up, combing his hair out of his face. He rolled his shoulders, linking his hands and pulling backwards before turning his wrists, making every popping sound available. As he cracked his neck, he closed his eyes and exhaled, opening them to Keith staring directly at him, leaning forward slightly.

He almost said something stupid. Almost.

"Yes. Yeah, deal," he held his hand out of the water, rivulets streaming down his arm, accentuating his bicep, and, God, Lance could you stop ogling at him for two seconds to actually accept the offer, please? He nodded, crouching to shake

Not thinking about how perfectly their hands fit together.

Or at least _not_  (not) thinking that until Keith gave a sharp tug and Lance rolled forward, swallowing what had to be an unhealthy amount of space water. He broke the surface, coughing, gagging all the excess out. Keith was already on dry land, one hand covering his mouth, a futile attempt, since the little snorts he made when he was laughing especially hard were still audible.

Lance would've been angry if he didn't look so damn _cute_. He jabbed a finger at him, "You're toast, mullet." It was meant to be imposing, maybe even a bit of that 'Wow menacing, have me now' vibes bad boys in movies always seemed to give off when they made threats. But all bets were off when he choked up halfway through.

Keith controlled himself, putting one hand on his hip, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Lance wheezed, getting the last of it out of his system before hurrying to the stairs and toward Keith. He took a step away from the pool.

"Alright. So I was thinking three laps, from Point A," he motioned to the side they were on, then toward the opposite end of the pool, "to Point C. As in, 'See ya later, Keith!'"

His eyebrows made one thick caterpillar together, "What?"

"I mean... like, you'll be so far behind me, I can't see you."

"But it's 'C'. Like the letter, right? How can it be—"

Lance groaned, "Never _mind_. There and back."

He studied the route, leaving his face in profile for Lance's vision. He was squinting, eyelashes overlapping. The color of his eyes were shadowed, a dark, dark grey instead of the usual turmoil of blue and purple. God, he had gorgeous eyes.

And cheekbones. And mouth. His top lip was a bit fuller than his bottom lip, making a dramatic cupid's bow where it curved under his nose. Not Betty Boop dramatic, but highlight it with some lipstick, and you've got a good contender. Red would look really good on him... anything would look really good on him (Preferably nothing but, hey, it wasn't a perfect world)...

The gorgeous lips were moving and Lance didn't notice until, "...Lance? Lance."

He snapped his head up, to attention, "What'sit?"

"I said let's go then," Keith said slowly, (gorgeous) eyebrow giving a tentative half step up. Lance nodded, giving assurance he was gonna kick Keith's ass while he stretched his arms out, warmed his legs up.

He actually didn't look at Keith throughout all this, thank you very much. A guy needed to draw the line somewhere, and his pride (lmao) was one.

When Keith finished, Lance pretended to be finished a second before, flashing him a toothy smirk. He rolled his eyes.

He bent into starting position, fingers splayed on the flat side of the stone. Keith did the same next to him, glancing at him through a curtain of (fuck, fine,  _gorgeous_ ) mullet. There was a silent countdown, breath in, out, in—

Lance pushed forward, kicked off simultaneously, giving himself as much leverage as he could. He stayed close to the surface, not letting the water pressure slow him down, and cut his first way through the water. He used the technique his mama had showed him, keeping half his face from the water whenever he wasn't paddling, so he didn't have to stop to catch his breath. 

Keith was on his other side, but he didn't need distractions. And Keith was a big distraction. He could here the more violent splashes nearby though, so he slid a little bit faster. When he made the slightest contact he flipped down and twirled out, bubbles tickling under his nose. 

There was a glimpse of Keith just arriving as he went off, and he sent a silent bird under the water at him. 

He kept ahead of Keith, as anticipated, for then first two kickoffs. It was halfway through his way back from the final that Keith launched himself in front of Lance, a move reminiscent of Free Willy (RIP), but it got the job _done_. Lance squawked, diving out of the way. Keith touched down on the stone and didn't even spare him a look before _shadow traveling_ through the fucking water like, how the _hell—_

 _Dios_ , no time right now, McClain. You can't just let him win, not after all that smack talk. Not after _shaking_ on it.

He almost growled as propelled himself back, splashing into line right next to Keith. Their hips bumped and arms slapped together. There was a moment of mutual, _Oh hell no,_  before shit got ugly.

Keith aimed a loose kick at his shin and landed, pushing Lance away. He floundered for a second before giving up on swimming and throwing himself on Keith's legs, coiling around them until he was sinking, taking Keith with him.

There was a garbled _Titanic_ joke lost in the chaos, but Keith probably wouldn't've even gotten it anyway.

He was attempting to pry his legs apart, dig a heel into Lance's stomach, but he held fast, accustomed to years of underwater wrestling matches with his cousins. He grabbed on to Keith's shorts and flung him down, mindful of them being on the (eight feet) deep end. His ears popped and just as he prepared to float back up, Keith latched onto his ankle, dragging him along.

It was a flurry of swirling bubbles and the currents of the struggle, but no actual hits were landed (or thrown, tbh). Lance's foot grazed the bottom and he stretched the bridge to give himself momentum up, slowly becoming aware that, wow, he was _not_ mermaid and oxygen was a thing.

But Keith must've had hella strong lungs because he was not letting go, climbing up (!) on Lance's body (!!) and straddling his waist (!!!). Lance's hands went to his thighs, half (heartedly) pushing, half holding him in place.

(He was impossibley warm. And his heartbeat was going fast, strong, _loud_. Or maybe that was his own.)

(Everything that could touch was touching and Lance could die very freaking happy right now.)

Keith pulled away from Lance's shoulder, where he had buried his head to keep from being detached, hair a cloud of ink around them. Nothing  ~~was~~ looked real underwater. The floating, the feeling of nothing, a world all on it's own. Everything was blue and purple, Keith's eyes, closer, closer, there and

and Keith was kissing Lance.

Or Lance was kissing Keith.

Either way, holy _shit._

Lance froze up, grip on Keith's thighs loosening in total shock. His eyebrows shot up high enough to hurt. Oh my God. Oh my _God_.

After a moment, Keith's hands in his hair started crawling away, and no, oh _heck_  no, that's not what Lance wanted. He pulled his arms around him and did his best to match back. Their noses smushed together until Lance tilted his head and there was the brief presence of teeth on teeth. Now it was Keith's turn to stop, eyes flying open.

This has to register: he was sucking face with Keith. Keith, his self-proclaimed rival/crush/pain in the ass.

It was a unanimous decision, he could practically see the same thread of thought going on in Keith's pretty little head. They sprang apart, ripping their eye contact away, and Lance propelled himself up, up, until he was gulping as much air as he could. His lungs hurt.

Keith looked less affected by the water than he did, "Holy hell," a sharp mutter, the water rippling, "Christ.  _씨발..."_ He was at the shallow end, wringing his hair out.

Lance took a second to recollect himself, reaching the part of the pool where he could stand on his tiptoes and swinging an accusing finger in Keith's direction, "You-- You--" he forced it straighter, "You did that! You _kissed _—"__

He whirled, "You weren't exactly complaining for a while there _—_ "

Insert meme of the guy shaking his head and saying, _'Ya got me there.'_ He spluttered, "We were underwater! I couldn't—"

"Yes you could! And you did it back!"

Damn, double whammy. Lance let his arm hit back under, biting his tongue. Why were they even arguing about this? If Keith really did kiss him, shouldn't he be, I dunno, rejoicing? Singing praises to the space gods and _Diosito_  up in Heaven while he drowned with Keith's tongue down his throat?

 _"I think you're taking the fire and ice thing a little bit too serious there, guys,"_ Hunk'd said one day when they'd thrown themselves into a full on wrestling match over who got to serve themselves first.

But that was them right? Fire and ice, neck and neck, Lance and Keith. Fuck, this could be the moment... would it really be them without a little bit of arguing?

He released his jaw, hoping his face wasn't actually as on fire as it felt, and said, "I mean... what if... I... did?"

Point K _—_ Nah. Nah, this was Point Lance. Point him for being this fucking stupid. Keith's guarded expression dropped, surprise the text written all up in his face code, "You... It'd mean you kissed me."

"Yeah..."

"Which would mean..." He took a step forward, "You like me?"

Lance looked down, shook his head a bit, side to side, "Maybe... a little."

"Oh."

God, could anything be more awkward than confessing you want to eat your rival's face? This was totally not Lance's vibe. Pointless flirting, sure, but actually con—

Wait. Pointless flirting.

Now _there's_ a plan.

He made a Grinch-like smile and floated over to where his feet didn't touch the floor. He could hear the crossed arms, "Lance what are you—"

Throwing one hand over his forehead, he announced in an exaggerated tone, "I'm suddenly drowning and in desperate need of CPR!" He dunked his head under, came up, "If only there was somebody, anybody, a cute boy!" Dunk, resurface, "With pretty eyes," was that a laugh?, "and a tragic attraction to 80's hairstyles--"

He couldn't get out the rest, suddenly pulled forward by his shoulder, the already familiar feeling of that mouth on his. He smiled wide, giving back in earnest. Lance pushed him back gently, just until they were back on level ground, and pulled his legs back around his waist.

If Keith had complaints, he was _so_  not voicing them.

Lance placed one hand along his ribs, the other on his cheek, angling the kiss better. They pulled apart for a second to breathe before going back, Keith placing one on each side of his mouth before coming to the center and something about the gesture gave Lance the biggest heart boner. Like, it was actually the best thing?

His lips parted slightly in a swallowed gasp and that's where _sweet_  turned _spicy_.

It's not like they knew what the fuck they were doing, obviously, Lance knew what he knew from his older siblings' various partners coming home when their parents were out (The basement is for Mario Kart and Super Smash, Naldo, not for you and your girlfriend to make out, make sure your little brother wasn't looking for a controller in the closet before you locked it, jfc) and movies. It was safe to assume Keith didn't watch half as much as Lance did due to his severe drought of knowledge on pop culture ("I just said bees are too big for their wingspan, Lance, why are you crying?"), and he didn't have any siblings, so?

Where the heck was he learning this shit that was making Lance's brain go all _AH-OOOGA?_

There was no hesitation when he opened his mouth in a kind of question and Lance fucking answered, assented, signed the contract to _accept_. Tongue were weird in and of themselves, but suddenly somebody else's was tangling with yours and that's super hot? Humans are definetely an anomaly.

But, seriously.

Keith?

A great kisser.

He did it like he was trying to crack a code, or getting used to the controls. Trying his hands on Lance's shoulders, then his biceps, then settling in his hair when Lance hummed his approval. He tasted like toothpaste and heat, smelled like _Keith_. This wasn't even a tick of what Lance had imagined, and he was delirious with it.

Lance made a whisper of a groan, hands sliding down Keith's neck to his back, locking him higher on his torso. His eyes were closed, Keith's eyelashes (Yup, same ones he'd been admiring not minutes ago) fluttering against his.

An earthworm-sized fire was beginning to curl around the base of his spine, sweat just starting to mingle with the water drying on his skin. Keith gasped, nails grazing Lance's scalp, and this was amazing, Keith was amazing.

(He never said that. He'll deny it to his grave.)

Lance took three strides to the edge, lining Keith's back up with it to get a better leverage. They stayed like that for a while, until Lance's cheeks were hurting and his sides were imprinted with the outline of Keith's thighs.

Keith put both hands on Lance's chest, almost reluctantly, and Lance opened his eyes.

Their foreheads were resting together, so Keith's face was blurry, but it was still gorgeous. His eyes were blown wide, cheeks flushed a deep pink, lips just the shade of red Lance had been thinking about earlier. His stomach touched Lance's whenever he took a breath, and, _Wow, I did that to him_. 

Point Lance.

"Oh my God," Keith groaned, voice just the right octave hoarser, "you did not just do that..."

Ah. He'd said that out loud. He took the opportunity, smirking and brushing his nose along Keith's cheek, "Yeah, man. Readily earned, if you ask me. I just landed the most gorgeous guy..." Keith squeaked, covering his face and Lance laughed with delight, kissing furiously along his knuckles, "Aw, c'mon, Keith! Don't do that—"

"Then I have a point too," he said through a crack in his palms, dragging them away, to catch a kiss on his cheekbone. Lance grinned wide, flexing his arms in a hug. Then Keith had to go and ruin it, face falling into a stoic expression before tapping the ground behind him, "Make that two. I touched the other side first."

Lance gasped, completely of shock now. He wanted to let go in mock revulsion, but couldn't bring himself to, "Deception! Disgrace!"

"You faked drowning to get me to kiss you," he settled his hands on the sides of Lance's head, thumbs stroking his temples, "it's perfectly fair."

"But that—That was—" He stomped his foot, "That's a point to me too."

"I thought if I won the point system would be abolished."

"Yeah, but cheaters don't get full rewards. I'll delete the footage, but the points system lives on! _Viva la—"_

The face stroking was a distraction! Abort mission, abort!

Keith was suddenly dragging his mouth over Lance's neck, stopping any attempt at further retribution, and _seriously,_ where did he _learn_ this stuff? Lance managed a murmur of, "I'm thinking you're kissing me just to extract points."

"Ah," his voice vibrated into Lance's collarbone, "you've revealed my secret. You're so smart, Lance," and maybe it was still part of the joke, but something in the way he said it suggested it wasn't, and Lance's ego _really_  liked that.

His teeth had been making little guest appearances here and there until Keith stopped, a centimeter or so away from the juxtapose of Lance's shoulder and neck, and he whispered, "Can I... leave something here?"

And, yes, for one second it was a biting kink. One. But Lance knew it wasn't, because he was sure Keith didn't even know what that _meant_ ("Eat me, Lance." "Ooh, kinky!" "What does hair texture have to do with anything?"). So instead of churning it around to much, he said what his mind immediately provided, "Uh huh."

Like butter, ladies and gentlemen and respectable aliens. Like _butter_.

It was a 100% guarantee that Keith felt his pulse jump because he gave a soft peck to the vein before going back to his designated spot and biting down. It was hitting right on the line of pleasure-pain, of 'holy shit' and _'holy shit'_. Lance exhaled a, " _Coño,"_ before bringing Keith up to put their lips together, barely a kiss, more just breathing eachother in.

"We're doing this. We're actually doing this."

"Don't sound so surprised," Keith said dryly.

Lance stuck his tongue out, winking, "You're right. After a while, nobody can resist all of this."

"You're right," he replied simply and Lance choked on his _No, wait,_ "that means another point me. And another because of how you look right now. And another for this," he ran a finger over the already forming bruise, causing Lance to shiver.

Fuck. Get your head in the game, McClain. Don't let him beat you in your homefield! He practically purred when he spoke, ghosting a kiss over every part as he spoke, "Then point me here," his eyes, "here," his forehead, "here," his chin, "here," his stupidly attractive mullet, "h—"

"Lance—"

Who knew an entire castle could be such a point block? The alarms started blaring, room glowing red a second before everything shut off, and Allura's voice came over the speakers, "Paladins, report to the control room. We have received word of a planet who is amiable to an alliance."

Coran came in through the background, "And make haste!"

There was a crackle as they shut off.

They stayed still for a second before Lance gave a dramatic sigh and placed Keith up to sit on the ledge, slugging his way to the stairs, "Well, duty calls, _cariño._ Alas, perhaps we are meant to be another time."

"You're so extra," Keith muttered choppily, as if testing the phrase out. Lance made a noise of delight meeting him where their towels were to give him a smoock on the cheek.

"Aw, old man Keith's hip with the kids!"

Keith side-eyed him, "So you're into old men?"

He felt himself go slightly darker, rubbing the towel vigourously through his hair, "Nah. Just one." The happy hum he got in response was reward enough. They left their shrits, having been swallowed up into the laundry chute, but this produced a new problem Keith decided to point out when they were halway there.

"Oh, and, by the way, you should probably cover that up."

"What," he looked to where Keith was pointing and stopped short.

A hickey.

Keith Kogane had actually, truly left him a hickey.

And Lance actually kind of loved it. He obviously couldn't say that, amping up the fake panic and draping his rolled up towel around his shoulders to cover it, then insisting Keith did the same. "And why should I do that?"

"'Cause, it'll look weird if only I do it! Like some kinda football player just coming out of an ass slapping tournament in the locker rooms. If you do it, it'll be more lowkey." He took Keith's towel and did the same, pulling him in with it and cranking the puppy dog eyes to their full coverage, "Please?" Kissed his nose, "Pretty pl—"

"Fine," he straightened it and turned to continue walking, waiting for Lance to fall into step next to him, "but you can't do that anymore."

"Sure," Lance shrugged, totally fucking lying.

Somewhere along the way, their hands intertwined, and halfway through the debate of who should have more points now for having the cutest boyfriend, Lance held them up and said, "Keith, this is really gay. Did you know this is really gay?"

Keith nodded, kissing his middle finger, completely deadpan, "Yeah. I couldn't be any happier." Lance swooned into his arms and they both crashed to the floor.

Allura called them out for being the last to arrive, chastising them for fighting when she saw their mussed up hair and red faces.

Lance shrugged, giving an offhanded, "Won't happen again," before sitting in his chair, adjusting his now-completely-spread-out towel.

Keith did the same a few feet in front of him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Get it? Gay asin happy? Keef makes jokes.
> 
> Hit me up, dudes.
> 
> twitter: @hivekyu  
> tumblr: @mcclainnkogane


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